


clear as crystal

by kathkin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Time, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25380817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: “Look,” he said. “This is all very sad. Would you like me to suck your cock about it?”Geralt stared at him. “What?”Jaskier puts his foot in his mouth and makes up for it by putting something more fun in there.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 36
Kudos: 1035





	clear as crystal

The sky overhead was clear as crystal, the stars bright. When Geralt came back from collecting firewood Jaskier hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d left him, lounging beneath his tree, idly playing a half-finished tune.

“Want some help?” he said, not looking up from his lute.

“No,” said Geralt. He fed the fire. Jaskier played on.

Sitting beside the fire, Geralt broke up a stick into smaller and smaller pieces, tossing them into the flames, enjoying the _snap, snap_ , of the dry wood, the way the fire sparked, the quiet.

“Hm,” said Jaskier at length. “I can’t decide which I like best.”

“Which what?”

“Which chord progression.” Jaskier played them again, or Geralt supposed he did. They sounded alike to him and he wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began. “Any thoughts?”

Geralt broke off another piece of stick. “No.”

“You’re no fun.” Sighing, Jaskier unfolded himself from his comfortable slouch and wandered around the fire to join Geralt. He settled himself on the ground. When he stretched out his legs his knee brushed Geralt’s.

He played the chords again and clucked his tongue in frustration. Then he tapped his hand decisively on his lute, and said, “can I ask you something?”

“No,” said Geralt. 

“Purely as a matter of professional curiosity, you understand.”

Geralt relented. “Fine.”

“How exactly does one get to be a witcher?” 

Geralt’s skin prickled.

“I mean,” Jaskier went on. “I’m guessing you don’t volunteer.”

Taking another stick from the pile of firewood, Geralt snapped it firmly in two. “You don’t volunteer.”

“Well, I guessed that,” said Jaskier.

He broke the stick again, a dull _snap_. “Witchers are all children of surprise.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s fingers tap-tapped against the wood of his lute. “Do people really just – hand their children over –”

“Some do,” Geralt interrupted. “Some don’t.”

“Did yours?”

Geralt threw the broken stick into the fire, where it sparked and crackled.

“I’m sorry,” said Jaskier. “I shouldn’t have asked. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

“Hm,” said Geralt.

“How old were you?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Of course,” said Jaskier, as if he understood. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Geralt shrugged.

Jaskier drummed his fingers upon his lute – then with a protracted sigh he put it aside, and shuffling in closer put his hand upon Geralt’s knee. “Look,” he said. “This is all very sad. Would you like me to suck your cock about it?”

Geralt stared at him. “What?”

“I’ve upset you,” said Jaskier. “Allow me to make it up to you by thoroughly taking your mind off it.”

He sat for a moment, torn between saying _you didn’t upset me_ , and – “are you serious?”

“Well,” said Jaskier, “that depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you interested?” The tip of Jaskier’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip, and Geralt tracked that tantalising movement with his eyes.

He said, “yeah.”

“Then I’m _entirely_ serious.” Jaskier clapped him upon the knee. “Take off your trousers.”

Kneeling up, he clambered into the V between Geralt’s legs. Geralt scrambled to unfasten his buttons as quickly as he could without looking like he was scrambling. He hadn’t had his cock sucked in he didn’t know how long – too long – and Jaskier kneeling between his spread thighs, bright-eyed and eager, was doing things to him. He’d never thought about this before – had never let himself think about it – but now that Jaskier was offering he wanted it with an embarrassing intensity.

“Wow, you are wearing a _lot_ of layers.” Jaskier sat back on his haunches to watch. “Do you have to take off of that off every time you go for a piss?”

“Shut up,” said Geralt.

“Bossy,” Jaskier said, and wrapped a hand around his cock. He was half hard already and it only took a few good tugs to get him fully hard, throbbing in Jaskier’s grip, his insides deliciously twisting.

“Hello _sir_ ,” Jaskier murmured to himself. Ducking down he mouthed at the base of Geralt’s cock, just below his own hand, then kissed wet up to the tip, running his tongue over it, and Geralt gritted his teeth to hold back the noise he wanted to make. “You like that?” said Jaskier, pulling back his foreskin and lapping at the head, quick, teasing licks, catching the beads of liquid at the tip with his tongue.

His grip was firm and Geralt felt like he was going to burst before Jaskier had even got his mouth on him properly and the thought crossed his mind that he’d _never_ hear the end of that. Clutching at the grass he said, “you gonna suck it before dawn?”

“I’m getting to it,” said Jaskier. He dropped a wet and lingering kiss on the head.

“Get to it faster,” said Geralt.

“Shhhh,” said Jaskier. “What’s the rush?”

“You –” Jaskier pulled the head into his mouth and sucked, hard. “Fuck!” Geralt exclaimed, his whole body jerking. Jaskier made a happy noise around his cock.

Geralt looked down at him, head bobbing in his lap as he took him down deeper. The noises Jaskier was making were going to undo him, contented hums of pleasure as if there was nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than sucking Geralt’s cock out in the woods.

His mouth was hot, and wet, and willing, and Geralt gave into a yearning desire and put his hand on the back of his head, pushing him down, urging him on. 

“ _Mmph_.” Jaskier shifted, pulling off, and for an awful moment Geralt thought he’d fucked up. But he said, his voice a touch husky, “you can pull my hair if you want. I’m into that.”

Taking him at his word Geralt buried his fingers in his hair and guided him back into place, pushing him down onto his cock, and obligingly Jaskier swallowed him.

“ _Fuck_.” His head lolled back and he found himself looking up at the stars wheeling overhead, dizzy with pleasure. His hips began to move, jerking up into Jaskier’s mouth, and Jaskier took it. He made a noise low down in his throat, a happy murmur.

Geralt looked down at him, at his cock sliding wet in and out of Jaskier’s mouth, and it hit him like a punch in the gut, his fingers tightening in Jaskier’s hair, his hips pushing up, up, in an urgent drive to get more and deeper as he spilled in his mouth.

He breathed out, his muscles unclenching. Relaxing his grip he steadied himself against the ground. Jaskier pulled away and spat into the grass.

Then he knelt up, and Geralt saw that he was hard. So hard he was straining against his trousers and the realisation that he’d been getting off on it made Geralt’s spent cock jump against his thigh. He held back a groan.

“Mmm,” said Jaskier, wiping a hand across his mouth. “D’you mind if I –” He reached for his buttons.

_Fuck it_ , Geralt thought, and batting Jaskier’s hands away he unfastened his trousers. He was hot and flushed and the scent of his arousal was salty-sweet and Geralt wanted to touch him _so_ badly and it only took a few strokes to send him over the edge, gasping, throbbing in Geralt’s hand.

He caught his breath, breathing hard – then to Geralt’s surprise let out a delighted peal of laugher. “Oh,” he said, “oh, that was nice.” He gave Geralt’s chest an affectionate, unsteady pat, and stumbled to his feet.

Geralt tidied himself up, fastening his trousers and wiping at his face. Across the campsite Jaskier was searching through his pack for his hipflask and when he wandered back over Geralt’s scent was no longer on his breath. He felt a slight pang of regret.

“Feeling better?” Jaskier said, flopping down beside him.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

Jaskier offered him the flask. “Want some?” Geralt shook his head. Jaskier took another swig. “Mm,” he said, and slouched against Geralt. “I don’t think I can write any more tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like a very long nap.” Jaskier rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “And then breakfast. What do you think?”

Geralt looked at him. In the firelight his eyes were clear and bright and trusting. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”


End file.
